


You Can Leave Your Hat On

by rizlowwritessortof



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cowboy!Dean, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: Inspired by the sexy af Cowboy!Dean we were treated to in 13x06 Tombstone. Helped along by Joe Cocker's rendition of "You Can Leave Your Hat On." If you haven't heard it, you should.





	You Can Leave Your Hat On

You rush from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body and your hair still dripping, diving for your phone. You land with a ‘whoof’ on the bed as you connect the call, raising the phone to your ear with a breathless, “Hello?”

“Uh – Taz?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah. Am I uh – interrupting something?” He sounds amused, and you’re sure his mind is now picturing all kinds of naughty things. “Sound a little out of breath.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Winchester, you will never change. I just got out of the shower, not exciting at all.”

“Hmmmm…. Naked? Sounds exciting to me.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Towel. Now get your mind out of the gutter and tell me why you’re calling.” This is the way it always is between the two of you – Dean and his sexual innuendo and you completely discounting it as teasing. Because he’s never actually tried anything, just the remarks, and the smirks, and you keep your heart locked away in a ‘that could never really happen’ box, laughing it all off.

He chuckles, and you doggedly ignore the goosebumps it raises along your arms. “Well, sweetheart – I called to ask you out. I need a date.”

“Well’s running dry? Are your charms losing their mojo?”

“Ha ha. No. It’s for a job. Big Texas oil tycoon just bought himself an ancient archaeological trinket at auction, and he has no idea that there are demons after it. We’re pretty sure it’s the key to a hell gate.”

“Silly Texas oil tycoon.”

“Yeah. He checks out so far, but we need to get that thing on lockdown at the bunker. Big charity shindig at his estate this weekend, seemed like the best time to try and get our hands on it.”

“Oooh, so it’s a dress-up thing. You’re paying, Winchester.”

“Yeah, yeah, First Bank of Whoever’s Name Is On This Card. How soon can you be here?”

“On my way.”

*****

“It’s good to see you, Taz.” Sam envelopes you in one of his patented, welcoming hugs and you squeeze him back happily.

“You, too, Sam. It’s been a while.” You step back and crane your neck to smile up at him.

“Are you ever gonna grow up?” he teases, and you shove playfully at his chest.

“Are you two ever gonna stop calling me Taz?”

“Nope. You earned it. I mean, I was out cold, that vamp was about to have Dean for his main course, and you went through the rest of that nest like a hurricane.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Where’s that brother of yours?”

“Right behind you, enjoying the view, sweetheart.” You turn to face him and find yourself wrapped in two strong arms before you can answer, and you return the favor. You give him a good squeeze and let yourself breathe deep, your face against his flannel-covered chest. He always smells so good.

You settle in, legs tucked up beneath you on the sofa with Dean beside you and Sam in a chair nearby. You all catch up, share a few beers and some laughter, a night off before the next job begins. The plan is to drive as far as Oklahoma City, where you’ll get outfitted for the big soiree and spend the night, then drive to Houston the following day. The charity event is on Saturday, 3 days away, and you’ll have plenty of time for ironing out the details during the drive and in your hotel rooms on the road.

Sam heads to bed, but you and Dean are enjoying your reunion and you’re reluctant to let it end so soon. A couple of hours later, you finally feel the exhaustion setting in. Your head is buzzing pleasantly as you stretch and stand up, yawning. “My usual room?”

“Unless you’d rather check mine out. All the comforts of home, and a lot more perks.”

You smile as you duck your head, blushing in spite of yourself. “Yeah, that’s probably a really bad idea. But thanks for the offer, Dean.”

You glance up at him, catching the wistful edge on his crooked grin. “Yeah, you’re probably right. See you in the morning, Taz.”

“Good night, Dean.” You reach down to ruffle his hair as you go by, barely swinging your hips free of the playful swat he directs to your backside.

You head down the hall, your duffle in hand, and enter the room you call yours when you’re here. You can’t help but wonder – would it really be so bad? You’ve thought about knocking on his door so many times. More than you like to admit, to be honest. But if you let that dam break… You take a deep breath and set your jaw, finish getting ready for bed, and crawl between the sheets, curling up in defiance of the temptation. You’ve survived almost every monster known to hunters, you’ve survived a couple of pretty bad relationships, you’ve survived losing friends and family. But you’re not sure you could survive Dean Winchester getting his hands on your heart.

*****

The drive to OK City actually seems to go pretty quickly, discussion of the case and plans on how to proceed taking up a lot of the time. You check into the hotel, grab a steak dinner at their overpriced restaurant, and hit the nearest shopping mall with an upscale department store. There’s a woman playing a grand piano in the lobby, and you can’t help but giggle at Dean as he shoots you an ‘are you kidding me?’ eyebrow raise. “Ready to get all classy and shit?” you whisper to him, bumping him with your shoulder, and he grins.

“Want me to help you pick out a dress?” he asks, an impish gleam in his eyes.

“Nope. I think it should be a surprise. Give you something to look forward to,” you fire back, spinning on your heel and heading for the upscale women’s department.

You reach the area and ask where the formal wear is, and a woman with lethal red nails directs you towards an alcove sheltered by tastefully placed pillars and silvery grey drapes. You enter, and are immediately greeted by a perfectly made-up and coiffed blonde. “How may we be of service today, madame?” she asks, and you smother a snort. Who knew you could be under-dressed to go shopping?

“I’m looking for a cocktail dress, floor length, something simple but elegant,” you manage, and she smiles pleasantly.

“Excellent. I’ll have the girls bring some out for your consideration.” She leaves through a silently closing door, and you roll your eyes.

“I hope that credit card of yours has a high limit, Winchester,” you mutter to yourself, and settle into the ivory brocade chair to wait.

You meet Dean near the front of the store, the bill for the dress in your hand. “What, you couldn’t find anything?” he asks in disbelief, and you laugh.

“They’re packaging it, it’ll be here in a minute. Here’s the bill, though.” You hand him the slip and watch his eyes widen.

“Holy shit. Good thing I got a $10,000 limit on this thing,” he muttered. “Between you and me, we’re pretty close to maxing it out.”

You grin. “Ooooh, let me see!”

He frowns at you, but his eyes are twinkling. “Hell, no! I’ll show you mine when you show me yours!”

You laugh. “Seems fair. Let’s pay for this fancy schmancy crap and get outta here, the high class atmosphere is giving me a craving for a good ol’ ice cold beer.”

You finally walk out of the place with your arms full of boxes and garment bags, and you smile as you see the hat box in Dean’s arms. “So, you got yourself a real cowboy hat, huh?”

“Hey – this is Texas. Formal means suit, boots and Stetson.” You nod in approval, suddenly dying to see him all decked out. This could turn out to be more fun than you’d thought.

*****

Saturday night arrives before you have time to worry about it. Armed with the floor plans of the mansion, notes on where the artifact would most probably be displayed (thanks to a little undercover flirting by Sam with one of the house employees), earbuds and your wits, it’s now time to get ready.

You manage to put your hair up, wavy tendrils escaping here and there, framing your face and dangling temptingly down your neck. The dress, in classic black silk, has a plunging neckline – well, at least it seems plunging to you, although the woman assisting you at the store had insisted that it was very tasteful. Your back is exposed, the material draping gracefully just below your shoulder blades. Your heels give you the height needed to let the gown sweep just a fraction of an inch from the floor, and a slit a little more than halfway up your right thigh teases a glimpse of leg with every movement.

You stare at yourself in the full-length mirror, a little in shock at the sight before you. You blow out a nervous breath and finish your makeup, then add earrings that sparkle in the light as they dangle from your lobes. You spray the expensive perfume that you indulged in just for the occasion, take a deep breath, and wait for a knock.

A rap of knuckles on the connecting door between your rooms makes you jump, and you hear Sam’s voice as he opens it a crack. “Are you decent?”

You laugh a little. “You tell me.”

He sticks his head in, and his eyes widen, his mouth dropping open. “Taz? Holy… Dean’s gonna die.”

“Considering what we’re about to do, that may not be the best choice of words, Sam,” you tease, smiling nervously.

“No, trust me. You look amazing.”

He disappears behind the door, then peeks back in again. “You’re ready to go?” You nod, and he swings the door open. “Come on, I can’t wait to see this.”

You grab the little sequin-studded bag that’s hiding a very small pistol and a pair of brass knuckles, and follow Sam into the next room. Dean hasn’t come out of the bathroom yet, so you stand and wait, smiling back at Sam a little nervously. The door opens and Dean comes out, buttoning the cuffs of his white shirt, glancing up once before stopping dead in his tracks, and you feel his eyes scanning you from your toes all the way up. His lips are parted, his eyes wide, and you hear him curse softly, almost to himself. “Son of a bitch.” His eyebrows raise as he struggles to speak, his mouth opening and closing several times before words actually make their way out. “Taz… you look fucking incredible!”

You can feel the color rise in your cheeks, and you let your eyes slide away, feeling suddenly shy and embarrassed. “Thanks.” There’s kind of an awkward silence now, and you gesture towards the door. “I’m… ummm… gonna go wait in my room for you to finish getting ready, okay?”

“Okay,” the boys mumble in unison, and you leave the room, blowing out a relieved breath as you enter your room. Having them staring at you in shock is disconcerting to say the least, and you need a moment to regain your composure.

You wander aimlessly around the room for a few minutes, and then you hear a soft knock before the door opens wide again. You feel a flush of heat through your entire body as you turn and Dean’s appearance literally robs you of your breath.

The western cut black suit he’s wearing looks like it was tailored for him, emphasizing those broad shoulders, the white shirt and bolo tie setting it off perfectly. His boots are black with grey, and to top it all off, a dark grey Stetson above that unbelievably handsome face. He looks like the epitome of a Texas dream, and you’re speechless for a few seconds.

“Well? Do I pass inspection?” he asks, an amused little smirk curving his lips.

“Wow. Yes. Definitely.” You blow a breath out and try to gather your scattered wits. “Spin for me. Let’s get the whole effect.” He grins, and your knees wobble. He turns slowly as you appreciate with every fiber of your being the fit of those pants, the way they almost caress his long, bowed legs and hug his muscular thighs.

“Okay, fair’s fair. Your turn,” he says as he faces you again. You smile back at him, beginning to get your bearings again, and make a slow circle. He lets out a low whistle. “Damn. I’m taking the sexiest woman in Texas out tonight.”

“Not so bad yourself, cowboy – so let’s go knock ‘em dead and steal an artifact,” you fire back as you grin at each other.

“Hold on,” Sam orders, “we need a picture of this.” So Dean stands next to you, his arm around your shoulders, while Sam snaps a couple of shots. You all put in your ear buds and hidden mics, and you’re ready to go.

“Okay. Let’s get this show on the road,” Dean says, and you ignore the little clutch in your belly at the sound of his voice with a little Texas drawl. It’s going to be so hard to keep your head on straight with him looking and sounding like this. Your sensible self gives your swooning self a stern look, and you straighten your shoulders and let him escort you out the door, his hand at your elbow.

 *****

Surprisingly enough, you are actually enjoying the evening. Everyone’s in formal dress, but you’re in Texas. The party is outside on a fabulous three-level patio, huge sliding doors opened into a gargantuan living room. There’s barbecue, beer, and some fairly rowdy country music, and you find yourself feeling pretty comfortable - people are friendly, the men clapping each other on the back, a lot of laughter. Dean has had his arm around your waist almost the entire time, possessive or protective you can’t decide. Any time a man heads your direction, he steers you clear of the area. And now he’s even going so far as taking you out to the dance floor, a slower song playing, and he’s holding you close while talking to Sam softly. “Just be careful, Sammy. So far, no trouble, but keep your eyes open.”

His hand is firm, splayed against your back, and you can feel the warmth of his touch through the silk of your dress. You look up at him, and the glow in his green eyes makes your breath catch in your throat. “You really do look beautiful, Taz.”

You can’t look away, time just ceases to exist, and he bends his head slowly towards you. Then Sam’s voice in both of your ears - “Shit! Demons!”

“On our way,” Dean says, taking your hand and pulling you through the crowd. You’re both trying to act like you just want some privacy, not like you’re in too big a rush. When you finally get inside, Dean lets go of your hand and runs, and you gather your skirt and join him, amazingly managing to keep up even in your heels.

You can hear the noise, the fight, as you draw close, and you stop for a split second, whipping your skirt out of the way to take your demon blade from the sheath strapped high on your thigh. It only takes a second, but you look up and see Dean staring at you, lips parted and eyes dark, before you both rush into the room to help Sam. There are three of them, perfect odds, and as one of them charges, you bring the demon blade up between his ribs, sending him back to hell with barely a sound.

“Bitch!” the demon nearest to Dean spits at you, his face contorted in fury, but Dean impales him cleanly from behind, yanking the blade back as the creature drops face first to the floor.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady, asshole,” he growls, watching as Sam finishes off the ugly specimen he’s been battling. “Okay, there, Sammy?”

“Yeah. Let’s grab this thing and get the hell out of here before someone else comes.” He snags the artifact, cramming it into a pocket as Dean ushers you out with a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Taz?” he says softly, and you glance up at him.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering – got anything else interesting up that dress?”

You look up to see his impish grin, raise an eyebrow and fire back a smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You all stop as Sam takes point, making sure the way is clear for you to make your exit. Dean bends close to your ear, whispering and sending goosebumps up your spine. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m dying to know.”

You hightail it out of there when Sam gives the all clear, piling into the Impala and leaving the mansion, dead demons and all, in your rear view mirror. Discussion on the way back to the hotel concludes that you would all be better off miles away, so you rush into your rooms, change and pack up, hitting the road within the hour.

“It’s safer if we get this thing to the bunker, anyway.” Sam’s voice broke the silence that had reigned since leaving Houston, everyone lost in their own thoughts. “They can’t come after it there, we can lock it in the vault with the rest of the world-destroying crap down there.”

“Yeah, would’ve been kinda fun to go out on the town while we were all spiffed up, but…” His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and the warmth there makes you blush a little. You smile, letting your eyes slide away, just catching his crooked grin. You wonder to yourself if his flirting is in your mind, if you’re the only one still thinking about what he said to you on the way out of that house.

Not too far into the trip Sam is already slumped over in his corner of the front seat, asleep. You’re dying to just bunch up your jacket and snuggle up in the corner of the back seat for a little nap, but those damn pins are still in your hair. You sit up and begin pulling them out, letting your hair fall down around your shoulders, then rub your fingers over your scalp, sighing in relief. As you move, you catch Dean’s eyes in the mirror again, and your heart flutters a little at the hungry expression on his face. His tongue darts out over his lips, and he snaps his mouth closed, pulling his gaze away to stare at the road ahead. You smile a little to yourself, getting as comfortable as possible and letting your eyes close, the dip and roll of the road rocking you gently to sleep.

A few hours later, you wake as the Impala rolls to a stop beneath a row of bright lights, sitting up to squint out the window. You’re at a rest stop, and Dean turns to speak to you as Sam stretches and yawns. “Pit stop. Sam, you wanna drive for a while? And Taz, if you don’t mind takin’ shotgun, I’d like to get a nap in.”

You nod with a sleepy smile, then open the door and unfold your legs, letting everything wake up a little before heading to the restroom. You and Dean get back to the car at about the same time, as Sam is climbing into the driver’s seat. “You get some rest?” he asks, and you smile at his affectionate smirk.

“Yeah. Baby rocked me right to sleep,” you answer, your smile fading slowly as he just keeps staring at you.

“You look all tousled and sleepy, sexy as hell.” You feel yourself blush, and you duck your head, feeling shy all at once.

“Stop,” you mutter, shoving at his shoulder, then open the front passenger door. “You’re such a tease, Dean.”

“Who’s teasing?” he asks as you get inside, and he closes the door. When he gets in, he leans up to your right side by the door. “I’m dead serious, Taz,” he whispers next to your ear, and you shiver. He sits back, then stretches out as much as he’s able in the back seat. “Drive careful, Sammy.”

“Always do, Dean,” Sam fires back, and you’re on the road again.

*****

Once the Impala is unpacked and all your gear back in the bunker, Dean pours a whiskey for each of you. “Good job, you two.” He raises his glass, Sam gives a nod, and you smile as his eyes meet yours before you all down the shots.

“I’m heading for the showers and bed. ‘Night, guys,” Sam mumbles with a yawn, then heads off down the hall. You’re perched on the arm of the sofa, your empty glass still dangling from your fingers. Dean holds up the bottle with the raise of an eyebrow, and you nod.

He refills both of your glasses, avoiding your eyes and gnawing thoughtfully at his lip, which you try unsuccessfully to ignore. You feel the tension between you vibrating in the air, your skin tingling with his nearness. He moves away, setting the decanter down, and your eyes roam over his shoulders, the henley he’s wearing stretched tight across the expanse. He turns back towards you, his eyes on the floor as he brings the glass to his lips, taking a sip, pulling his lips back, inhaling through his teeth at the burn of the liquor in his throat. You feel a throb between your thighs at the sight and close your eyes for a moment. “We really need to talk, Taz.”

“I need to shower.” You down your drink in one gulp, feeling the burn all the way down to your stomach, hoping it calms your nerves.

“Yeah, so do I.” He glances up at you, the hint of a crooked smile on his face. “Wanna conserve water?”

This you can handle, the teasing banter you normally have with him. “Maybe another time, Romeo,” you answer, turning to walk away. You stop just before leaving the room, speaking softly over your shoulder. “We really should talk. A little later, okay?” Then you continue on down the hall, inhaling as if you haven’t been breathing for the past five minutes. An idea is forming, and it scares the hell out of you almost as much as it excites you. You have the time it takes to shower to make your decision and fire up your courage.

You drop your duffle on your bed, grab the Men of Letters standard issue robe that’s hanging on the back of your door and your bag of toiletries, and head for the shower. You meet Sam in the hall in sweats, a towel around his neck, and he puts a hand on your shoulder on the way by, saying ‘goodnight’ again. You close the shower room door, stripping down and heading for the nearest stall, letting the water get to your perfect temperature before stepping beneath the spray.

You go to your room, perching on the edge of your mattress and waiting for the sound of the music Dean always plays when he’s in the shower. You’re so high strung that when you hear the muffled guitar of Metallica begin, you almost leap off the bed. You hurry to his room, praying that you’ll have the time you need. Thankfully, he carried all his gear to his room, and you smile to yourself. “All in, balls out,” you mutter to yourself, and you unzip the garment bag containing his suit, steeling your nerves, determined to see this through.

It’s a nerve-wracking twenty minutes or so before you hear him clearing his throat in the hall, on his way to his door. You’re shaking a little, but you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and stand tall as the door swings wide. He comes inside, his hair damp and mussed, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs that make your pulse stutter. He tosses his laundry in the basket by the closet, and then raises his gaze, finally seeing you. His mouth drops open a little, his eyes, widen, and you see his tongue twitch inside his mouth before his lips form an ‘O’, blowing out his breath slowly. “Holy fuck. Am I dreaming?” he rasps out, his voice soft and low. You’re wearing your heels from the gala, your legs bare, the rest of you covered in only his suit jacket, held closed by the top button. The lapels barely cover your nipples, the strings of his bolo tie dangling temptingly between your breasts. Perched on your freshly washed and dried hair is his Stetson, and you try desperately to keep your breathing even, to make yourself stand there as he devours you with his gaze.

“If you want to pretend this never happened, just close your eyes and I’ll disappear. We won’t ever have to talk about it again,” you manage to say breathlessly, and for a split second you are terrified of what his response will be.

“Sweetheart, if you disappear, I’m coming to find you,” he almost growls, and you feel your heart speed up even more, if that’s possible. You reach for your phone, laying next to you on the dresser, and hit ‘play.’ The sound of Joe Cocker’s gravelly voice softly begins to fill the room.

_“Baby, take off your coat_   
_Real slow_   
_And take off your shoes_   
_I'll take off your shoes_   
_Baby, take off your dress_   
_Yes, yes, yes_

 

_You can leave your hat on_   
_You can leave your hat on_   
_You can leave your hat on”_

As soon as the chorus hits, the spell is broken and you move towards each other. You can see the pulse at his throat, rapid and strong, his tongue slowly moving across his lips as his fingers reach to touch you. They start at your shoulder, trailing down the opening of his jacket, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they move all the way across your collarbone, the swell of your breast, to the lone button at the bottom. He deftly unfastens it, leaving the jacket in place as he bends towards you. His eyes stare into yours, pupils blown wide, for a split second before he crushes his lips to yours, one hand at the small of your back, pulling you hard against him. His other hand slips beneath the jacket, resting at your waist for a moment as his tongue probes your lips and you open to him with a breathless gasp.

His fingers move slowly, inexorably up your side before covering your breast with a soft moan into your kiss. He kneads at you, your nipple hardening beneath his touch, his kiss desperate and hungry. He whispers your name against your lips, moving them across your cheek to the sensitive spot below your ear, making your knees buckle a little as he tightens his hold on you to keep you upright.

“Never had a dream this good,” he whispers, his teeth nibbling at you, his tongue touching you briefly, his lips magic against your skin. You whimper his name as he draws his fingers together, plucking at your nipple. He kisses you once more, hard and quick, then straightens up, looking down at you, eyes gleaming voraciously. He moves his hands to your shoulders, slowly pushing the jacket off and letting it slip down your arms to the floor. “Are you sure about this, Taz?” he asks softly, one finger moving along your collarbone, and you tilt your head, looking into his eyes, your heart pounding.

“I’m sure,” you manage to answer, and then you are crushed against his chest, his skin warm and still a little damp from the shower. He kisses you and you lose yourself completely in the taste of him, the heat of his skin against yours, his hands roaming and gripping you, pressing you into the rigid length of him. You let your hands smooth over the flexed muscles of his back, the firm curve of his ass, whimpering at the ache between your thighs.

“You need something, baby?” He trails his fingertips around the side of your hip, over the crease of your thigh, letting them dip into your folds with a little groan that makes you whimper again at the sound of his arousal, the touch of his calloused fingers where you crave him. “Fuck, Taz… you’re killin’ me.” He steps away from you, grabbing your hand and moving towards the bed, and you kick off your shoes. “I need you to ride my face,” he growls, laying back and pulling you on top of him, grinding his hard cock against your pelvis as he kisses you hard, demanding, nipping your lip a little as he takes hold of your arms to help you move up his body. You let him move you as he wants until you are seated on his chest, his arms looped under your thighs and kneading at your hips. You reach for the hat, but he barks out a “No!” that stops you, and you stare down at him, a thrill zipping up your spine. “Leave it on.” You bite you lip a little, eliciting a groan from him, and he presses you down against his chest, smearing himself with your arousal. “C’mere,” he manages to say, his voice raw, before his biceps flex, pulling you to him, burying his face in your pussy with a moan that has you clenching every muscle in your body. You let out a breathy cry as his tongue sweeps through your folds, the sounds he’s making and the sensation of his lips caressing you, driving you nearly out of your mind. He’s groaning at your flavor, his mouth hungrily ravaging you, tasting every tender part of you, sucking gently at your clit but never quite long enough to let you reach the crest you’re dying for. You give up trying to keep from thrusting, grinding against him, and he growls his approval, his tongue spearing into you, rhythmically thrusting, his nose pressed hard against your clit. When your thighs are quivering and you’re on the edge of collapsing, Dean moves his lips to your clit again and sucks hard, his tongue flicking at the oversensitive nub as he pulls one arm free and slides two fingers into you, stroking relentlessly. You thrash against him, your nails digging into his thighs as you grip them behind you, and you shake uncontrollably as you let out a harsh cry, the orgasm pulsating through you in wave after wave of intense pleasure.

He eases you back, his head raised so he can still reach you with his tongue, gentling you with long, languid strokes as he pulls his fingers from you. He murmurs words of praise interspersed with his moans of pleasure at your flavor on his tongue, slowing until you are able to support yourself and sit up, moving from your seat across his chest. He swipes the back of his hand over his face and chin, then reaches for you, pulling you down for a sensuous kiss. You pull away after a time, your eyes focused on his as you slip your hand over his abdomen and under the edge of his boxers, making him suck in a sharp breath. “Only fair, don’t you think?” you tease as your fingers brush over his swollen head, and he grits his teeth together, hissing softly. You scoot down a little farther, working your fingers under his waistband and tugging his boxers down, freeing his cock with your lip in the grip of your teeth. “Oh, Dean,” you sigh, and he helps you rid him of the shorts, kicking them off his foot and holding his breath as you bend towards him. He’s hard and pulsing, precome weeping from the slit, and you take him in your hand, laving your tongue over the tip of his head in a slow drag that punches a grunt from his gut.

“Shit, Taz, holy shit,” he manages, and then you suck the tip of his cock into the heat of your mouth and he can speak no more, only incoherent noises. You suckle gently at him, pulling off and taking him back in, over and over, a little deeper each time. His thigh muscles twitch and strain beneath your hand, and you give them a squeeze before letting your fingers cradle his sac, fondling his balls as he bumps the back of your throat for a moment. You continue until he’s a thrashing, desperate mess beneath you, and then he grips your hair, keeping you still as he gasps out the word, “Stop.”

You pull off of him, keeping your hand on him, still stroking. “Dean, please, let me...”

“No. I don’t want to come like this, not the first time. I wanna watch you bounce on my cock, ride me with that fucking hat on. Come on, baby, please – ride me.”

How could you say no to that?

You drop one last lingering kiss to the tip of his erection, sweeping your tongue through the slit, savoring the sound he makes. Then you swing your leg over top of him, gasping just a little as he stops you, his hand cupping your sex and giving it a firm squeeze. He drags his fingers over your clit, making you shudder, then takes himself in hand, helping to guide himself to your opening. You brace yourself, hands on his chest, and lower yourself slowly down until he has filled you completely and you both hold your breath, throbbing and pulsating in and around each other. You grit your teeth, desperately holding on, not ready to let go yet, never wanting the delicious agony to end, and you see from the look on his face that he is doing the same.

“Dean…..” You moan his name, clenching around him, making him hiss.

“Taz, baby… need you...” he manages to grit out between his teeth, and you whimper as you begin to move. You barely shift your weight at first, still feeling on edge, but then, finally, you’re in control again. You begin to rock yourself against him, spreading your legs farther apart to take him even deeper, piercing you to the limit, rotating your hips and fluttering around him. The need grows in you, the desperate urge to drive his cock into you, and you raise yourself up, then drop, moaning as he hits that sensitive spot inside you that makes your vision fade momentarily.

His hands are sliding from your knees up to your thighs, gripping with each stroke. Your legs are trembling, and he plants his feet on the mattress, thrusting up into you, his hands moving to your hips to help raise and lower you. “Dean…” you whimper, your body quaking, and he reaches down where you meet, his finger rubbing over your clit once, twice, and you are done. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your eyes squeezed shut tight as you buck against him. He drives himself into you hard, his own body shaking from exertion, and swears as he swells inside you, coming hard as he holds himself up, letting you writhe on him as the heat of his climax fills you.

You drop down on top of him as he lets his hips drop back to the bed, your face in the crook of his neck, the Stetson falling to the floor. You are sweaty and sticky, too exhausted to move, and his arms surround you, his hands caressing your back as you let your eyes close.

You both doze off for a while, and when you wake his lips are gently kissing your forehead, his fingers brushing the hair back from your face. “Hey,” he says softly, and you smile, your eyes still closed.

“Hey,” you answer, then sigh sleepily, letting your head drop back so you can look him in the eye. He kisses your lips, nibbling and brushing over them with his own, and you wonder how you’ve lived this long without this.

“So,” he says between lingering kisses, “I guess you keep some pretty amazing stuff up under that dress.”

“You think so?”

“Thoroughly impressed.”

“Mmmmm. Well, I enjoyed my ride, too.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a great ride.”

“We should make that a thing. A regular thing. You know, your thing and my thing together.”

He rubs his nose against yours, then kisses the tip of it, smiling. “My thing definitely has a thing for your thing.”

“Oh, yeah? I can kinda tell,” you tease, reaching down to touch his rapidly rising erection. You turn away for a second, reaching down to the floor as he turns to his side, propping himself up on one elbow and snagging a kiss as you return to your back, the Stetson in your hand. You plop it on top of his head as he looks down at you, smirking, and smile, feeling that fluttering in your belly that only happens around him. “I’m ready if you are, cowboy. And you can leave your hat on.”


End file.
